


Naming the Silence

by regalmilk



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regalmilk/pseuds/regalmilk
Summary: He has been a year in Ravencroft. A ghost shows up at his cell.Now, Harry asks him, “You, uh, need to work out some more of your issues? I’m here for that.” He pauses. He feels the symbiote, slimy and jagged, in his smile, “but I guess I’m also here for everything else, huh?”—Post-canon AU in which Harry is bonded with the Venom symbiote after becoming Green Goblin.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	Naming the Silence

He has been a year in Ravencroft. A ghost shows up at his cell. Bent and sleep-deprived, still learning to eat normally again. His presence is slight as a sheet of paper, and his hands are possessed by a shy tremor, though he tries to hide it.

Harry sits with his back to him, combing his hair, looking at his mangled neck in the mirror. The symbiote had healed the wounds and internal damage done by the spider serum, but the scars from his ‘Osborn curse’ persist.

—

Once, on the ghost’s first visit, Harry had asked, laughing softly like it was a joke (to him it was), “Why don’t you just kill me?”

The ghost, ever noble, ever disappointing, had bared his teeth (white-knuckled, Harry observed through the mirror) and said, “It won’t bring her back.”

“Yeah,” a grin spread over his face, skin so white it was nearly translucent, “but, uh, nothing will at this point, so why not just do what you want? And I _know_ you want to.”

Harry’s eyes had darkened as he watched the ripple of the ghost’s Adam’s apple. There was something beneath his rage, something infinitely more terrifying.

When the ghost said nothing, Harry had scoffed, the smirk a dash of red across his face. “‘With great power’ and all that, right?”

Harry laughed loudly as Peter’s knuckles split over his jaw.

His ribs.

The bridge of his nose.

—

Now, Harry asks him, “You, uh, need to work out some more of your issues? I’m here for that.” He pauses. He feels the symbiote, slimy and jagged, in his smile, “but I guess I’m also here for everything else, huh?”

“No.”

“Oh, _man_.” Harry half turns to him. “His Majesty _speaks_.”

Peter’s eyes in the dark cell are utter voids of defiance. His mouth is thread-thin and his back is so straight it looks a knife’s breadth from snapping. There’s a fresh cut on his forehead. Courtesy of one of the Six, no doubt, so Harry doesn’t ask.

“‘No’ you don’t have issues to work out or ‘no’ I’m not in here for everything else?” He asks instead. “Because I can assure you, both of those are lies.”

“No.”

“Okay, if you’re gonna be _boring_ , I’d rather you just leave,” Harry growls. The symbiote swells under his tongue.

But then Harry notices the way Peter’s eyes are fixed on the comb Harry’s turning over in his hands.

His hands.

Harry laughs under his breath, but he’s terrified. He remembers the ripple in Peter’s throat. “What do you want?”

His voice breaks. It is his only mistake, but it’s a fatal one. And Peter moves toward him soundlessly, kneels on the floor on front of his chair. He takes Harry’s pale hands in his lacerated ones.

“ _No_ ,” Harry hisses. The symbiote shivers. “Stop.”

Peter runs his calloused thumbs over Harry’s knuckles, the satin of his wrists. He kisses one. “Harry. Harry, Harry, _Harry_.”

“ _What?_ ” Harry yelps, but he can’t see through his own tears. The heat in his cheeks stings like a sunburn.

“I don’t know,” Peter whispers, as he leans up to bury his face in Harry’s neck. Tendrils of the symbiote curl inquisitively around Peter’s waist, push Harry toward him from the small of his back. “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

Harry hears Peter’s teeth chattering.

“I think you should go,” he hears himself say even as Peter and the symbiote pull him from the chair to the floor. He’s framed by Peter’s thighs, feeling small and delicate within their strength, but when Peter whines, it sounds almost agonizing.

An impulse suppressed for years until this moment, Harry takes Peter’s face in his hands. His brown eyes are wet and entirely lost.

“ _I needed you_ ,” Harry says through his teeth. “You betrayed me. You _hurt_ me. _You threw me away_.”

Peter shakes his head furiously, teeth also clenched. “No, _no_. Fuck you. You hurt _me_. You took away _her_ away. You took her away.”

Peter’s pressing their foreheads together and snarling, and Harry feels almost suffocated. The symbiote wraps its tendrils gently around Peter’s neck.

“What do you want, then?” Harry yells and the symbiote tightens its grip. “You won’t kill me and you won’t leave, _so what do you want_?”

Peter doesn’t flinch, but he says nothing. His dark eyes devour the light in the cell. There’s a tremor again in his fingertips. Harry tries to pull away, but Peter’s hand clamps his wrist like a vice. He can feel Peter’s breath on his face. Hot and damp, it smells like air before the rain. The gears of the clock are like piano keys in his mind, creating some strange almost-melody. He doesn’t remember his own face. He remembers Peter’s.

“You don’t want me.” Harry trembles and the symbiote abates. “You don’t want me. _You can’t_.”

“I shouldn’t.” It’s a mere echo by the time Harry hears it, as Peter’s mouth nearly takes the air from his lungs. He runs his hands through Harry’s tangled hair, shoving him into the floor, clutching him like he’s lost at sea.

When they part, Peter is looming over him, the symbiote tracing his shoulders. Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows. He touches his fingers to Peter’s lips as if he still might be a ghost. “I can’t change anything. This won’t change anything.”

For a moment, Peter looks like he used to, and he gathers Harry’s wrists like stems in his hands. “I know. I’m just so cold. Sometimes I’m just… _really cold_.”

Hands still trapped, Harry leans forward to kiss him. It’s tentative and gentle. It’s the closest he may ever get to an apology. And he feels the symbiote’s tendrils around his own ribs, lifting his shirt, as Peter’s mouth works over his nipples.

Harry gasps, but he squirms in Peter’s hands. “Let me. Let me.”

Peter releases him, and Harry undoes the button on Peter’s jeans, bowing over him. He whispers over the crown of Peter’s cock when he frees it, listening to Peter’s quickening breath. He licks a path up the shaft and pulls him into his mouth. When Peter whimpers, the symbiote curls itself around the base, squeezing what Harry can’t reach. Peter’s voice becomes a ruined choir, and they both have tears in their eyes when he comes. Harry swallows everything.

There is a moment after when Harry is lying on Peter’s chest, arms folded, watching Peter’s eyelashes. The symbiote is a shadow on Peter’s thighs, stoking him like campfire embers, keeping him sensitive. Harry thinks of snowflakes.

“Do you remember, when we were eleven, the winter before I left for boarding school,” he smiles far more tenderly than he ever intends to, “when Flash stole your sled… and you pissed in a bottle and told him you’d stolen some of your uncle’s whiskey and wanted to trade back for it?”

Harry knows this must be Peter’s first real smile since she died. He’s almost scared by how beautiful he is.

“Yeah,” Peter tosses his head like a horse, “of course I remember, are you kidding me? That was hilarious. It’s a good thing we started track that year. He never even got close to catching us.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry laughs, “the one year of my life I did anything athletic.”

Peter goes quiet, but he’s absently rubbing Harry’s forearms.

“It’s too bad we don’t have any like, cigarettes or something.” Harry’s voice is a hum. “Then this’d be like straight out of a movie.”

“Hey,” Peter says suddenly.

“What?”

Peter sits up. “I want you.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” Peter is already guiding him onto his back, kissing his stomach, the scars on his neck.

There is too much between them for pretense. Peter is straining and the symbiote works Harry open, the Osborn heir keeping his blue eyes on Peter the entire time. Peter fucks him earnestly. Slow and angry and deep, and Harry is pressed against him, leaving nail and teeth marks in his shoulders.

Peter’s unnatural possessiveness means neither Harry nor the symbiote are allowed to touch Harry’s cock. And when Peter dips his mouth to Harry’s ear and whispers, “maybe next time”, Harry is thrown over the edge.

When Peter warns him he’s close, Harry digs in with his hips and begs into Peter’s mouth, “don’t leave.”

Peter comes inside him, both he and the symbiote shiver, and Harry hears his own name, faint, clear, and trembling—like the tremors—like a bell in the night.

They collapse in the dark of the cell, Harry half on top of Peter, and for a long time, neither says anything. Then Peter speaks.

“I’m still so fucking angry.”

“So am I.” Harry looks into the middle distance and folds his fingers over Peter’s heartbeat.

“I still hate you.” Peter brushes Harry’s bangs from his face. Passes his fingers over his lips.

“I hate you too.” Harry closes his eyes.

“But I don’t.”

On the inside of his eyelids, a shape forms. A true ghost. Harry feels the symbiote flicker in his veins. He aches. His mouth moves around her name like a stranger. “Neither do I.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure self-indulgence and even though I've shamelessly adored this movie (with all its flaws) since seeing it in theaters six years ago, I'd somehow never written anything for it. And then yesterday I decided it was time. I will also always love the idea of Harry as Venom. All in all, at this point, this one-shot is very late and irrelevant, but that's just the shape my heart takes sometimes.
> 
> Comments always loved and appreciated.
> 
> tumblr: @ [regalmilk](https://regalmilk.tumblr.com)


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